NOMADS
13 August 2016

 

 

 

In the valley of the last breath 

I am the spirited wanderer, non remembering, and never hopeful –

Figures

woven their lives in art.

Travellers in mind

body

heart.

  
  

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At the limit

of limitlessness

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The sun is the symbol

of victory

on night

 

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He glanced at her, exclaimed

‘you are pure!’

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The trees felt my presence,

I fed them compost,

wrapped my arms around the stalk of love

and honoured us as growing,

unique and unarmored.

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As the river runs

I run

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Goodness is the child

of the eye, and the ear.

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